


Summers in blue

by salytierra (octavaluna)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Child Lovino, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Love, Fluff, Kid Fic, M/M, Mama Acosta is a sweetheart, Mentions of past drug use, Musician Antonio, Portugal is a good brother, Verano Azúl subtle references, Writer Arthur, mentions of minor character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 13:58:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11899212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octavaluna/pseuds/salytierra
Summary: And that’s how Arthur ends up standing in the middle of an airport he hadn’t set a foot on in fifteen years, amazed by the emotions the familiar sounds and smells of southern Spain bring back to the surface.Summers in blue, under the waves and the skies, memories of the happiest days of his life, his best friend, and the blinding smile of his first love.





	Summers in blue

**Author's Note:**

> I present you my work for SpUk day 2016!!
> 
> ...
> 
> No, it's not a typo. I've been sitting on this thing for 14 months, I shit you not!  
> Anyway, it was inspired by some of last year's photo prompts, but mostly by the Spanish TV show "Verano Azúl", released in 1981 but engraved in the heart and soul of this country forever. 
> 
> My other inspirations were the songs "Mediterraneo" by Serrat and... ugh, "Best Friend's Brother" by Victoria Justice, for obvious reasons. 
> 
>  
> 
> **Anyway, the full cast of this drama and their ages at the beginning of Act I**
> 
>  
> 
> Arthur Kirkland (England) : 9  
> Fiona Kirkland (Republic of Ireland) : 13
> 
> Antonio Fernández Carriedo (Spain): 12  
> Henrique João Fernández Acosta (Portugal): 8
> 
> Francis Bonnefoy (France): 15  
> Lucille Bonnefoy (Monaco): 13  
> Matthew Bonnefoy (Canada): 7
> 
> Gilbert Beilschmidt (Prussia): 15  
> Ludwig Beilschmidt (Germany): 5  
> Roderich Edelstein (Austria): 12
> 
> \+ An army of parents. 
> 
> Others: Alistair is meant to be Scotland, Jan is the Netherlands, Margot is Belgium, Marcus - Rome.

 

 

* * *

**ACT I**

* * *

  

 

Arthur’s family had always been of permanent traditions. Ever since his elder brother was a baby they’ve been spending their vacations in the same seaside village in Spain. Clean beaches, lots of sun and welcoming locals that quickly became good acquaintances made for a pretty nice argument to come back year after year.

Being the littlest one, and the one that usually got picked on, Arthur tried to avoid his brothers and just trailed after his sister, Fiona, that maybe didn’t particularly enjoy his clinging but didn’t hit him or yell at him too much.

Somehow, over the years their parents ended up making friends with another family of permanent visitors, the Bonnefoys. Arthur hated their smug elder son with his whole soul, but little Mattie was alright, even if maybe a little bit too shy, and their sisters got along, so he had to shut it and be happy with just glaring up at Francis with suspicion.

It’s not until he was already nine that he snuck out one day, not really in the mood for staying home with his eldest sibling as an unwilling nanny while everyone else went to see a movie that was deemed _“unsuitable for those under twelve.”_

He walked the well known streets, quite bored without anyone to talk to or anything interesting to do. After thinking it over he decided to go see what Matt was up to. In the last couple of years he fell out a little bit, always buried in his books and not talking much. However, when Artie arrived to the summer house the Bonnefoys were renting, he found him absorbed in a conversation with a local boy, more or less their age.

The new kid had dark hair, with a tiny, crooked ponytail, a mole under his right eye and a cocky smile with a missing tooth. Arthur liked him immediately.

“Are you here alone?” He asked after introducing himself, and the boy, Henrique, nodded.

“My parents went to the bar, and my brother is with the Beix.. Beivel… ugh, with the German family that moved in this spring. He’s spending a lot of time with them now and mama and papa don’t mind because they say Germans are very serious with safety. Toño says that he he’s dating their cousin, but that’s a lie! Because they are twelve and people can’t date until they are sixteen! That’s what my parents say anyway.”

“That’s not true.” Mattie shook his head “You can date when you are not sixteen too. My brother goes on dates.”

“But not when you are twelve. All they do is hang out and hold hands anyway.”

“And how does one date?”

“I know!” Rique exclaimed. “You have to wear a ring and kiss, like my papa and mama do.”

“No, that’s marriage.” Arthur pointed out. “When you are dating you give flowers and chocolate.”

“That’s only on Valentine’s day.”

“Why don’t we ask Gil? He’s the elder German. He is fifteen and he says that he dates a lot. Although I think he is lying too.”

“Can we?”

Rique nodded. “Yeah! They live nearby.”

And that’s how they meet the Beilschmidts and the Fernández Acosta family.

The germans are a weird bunch. Gilbert is really protective of little Lud, and Artie is jealous, because his own brothers never treat him that well and with so much love. Roderich, their cousin from Austria is a quiet one. He likes music a lot and doesn’t enjoy water very much. But he does get into the sea if Antonio, Rique’s brother, promises to hold his hand the entire time.

Antonio’s relationship with Rique is a bit more similar to Arthur’s with his own siblings. Except that Alistair and the others say Arthur is a little shit. Toni laughs and says his half-brother is a little shit too, but he’s _Antonio’s_ little shit so nobody has the right to pick on him except Antonio himself.

Antonio is a fascinating person. His mom died when he was a baby and his dad re-married soon after, but he’s not sad because he says that he doesn’t remember her and loves his step-mom very much. He’s really cheerful and is always moving. He likes to sing and dance and plays the guitar pretty well. He teaches them all how to catch cranks on the rocks and the best places to hide and observe birds. He laughs and high-fives Rique when his brother calls them “boiled shrimps”, because the two of them are the only ones with a nice brown tan after a full day on the beach instead of sunburns.

But then they help the rest of the gang to apply yoghurt on the sensitive areas, which helps a lot.

Arthur likes Rique the best. However, he can’t help but be intrigued and look up to Antonio too. Except when he becomes friends with Francis, which is not fair, so Arthur has to pretend that he doesn’t like him in protest. Rique laughs and calls him stupid, because his brother is lame and his friends are lame too.

That summer turns out awesome! And the next one too. Except for the part where Roderich can’t visit and Antonio mopes for a while but then decides he’s going to “date” Fiona instead. Arthur finds out he doesn’t like that one bit and Francis calls Toni a “dog”.

The year after that, however, Roderich is back and the three of them “date” together, until their parents scold them and order them to stop being silly and saying these things around. Arthur is oddly gleeful. He knows now what dating implies and he doesn’t like the idea of Antonio doing that with anyone. Or kissing anyone.

He wonders how kissing Antonio would feel like.

 

* * *

 ******ACT 2**

* * *

 

 

 

It’s been five years since Arthur met the Fernández brothers. Rique has become since then his “summer best friend” and they write a lot to each other during the year. Sometimes even talk on the phone.

Arthur's Spanish is perfect and a lot of girls at school think that’s really cool. He takes a walk through the park with a couple of them and then decides he’s not interested. But when he thinks about boys, his mind automatically jumps to Antonio’s brilliant smile and kind voice.

He tells his sister that he might be in love with Antonio and she laughs so hard she almost passes out. He tells it to Rique too and he doesn’t believe him at first, but when Arthur convinces him he likes the idea, because if Antonio and he got married then they would be brothers too.

It may be a little bit too soon to think about marriage, but Arthur gets on the plane in june determined to confess his feelings that summer.

Once his family is set in their rented, little house, with white walls and blue window frames, he rushes for the Fernández home.

He sees Antonio first, sitting cross-legged on the porch of his house with a guitar in his hands and Rodri holding up the music sheets in front of him. When he turns around and looks at Arthur, smiling in that ridiculously attractive way of his, the poor boy almost melts, momentarily forgetting his own name. God, his cheeks must be burning. Dumbfolded he only manages to wave awkwardly, rooted in place.

“Oh my… you are _pathetic_!”

Arthur squeaks, jumping half a foot into the air and turning around to find himself face to face with a grinning Henrique.

He pouts but still hugs his friend with all his strength, happy to see him again.

“So, when are you going to tell him?” Rique asks once they are up in his room, munching on the cake his mom gave them.

“I don’t know.” Arthur whines “I just got here and he’s just so cool. Cooler every year. Have you seen his eyes? They are so dreamy… You know what I mean?”

“No.” Rique deadpans. “That’s my stupid brother you are talking about, remember? Besides, we have the same eyes! Why are his eyes dreamy and mine look like I’ve duct-taped leaves on my face?”

“Are you still hung up on that? I accidentally said that two years ago!”

“Never forget, never forgive!”

The first three weeks pass as always. Fiona, Gilbert and Francis, the oldest of the bunch, enough to travel alone and drink, don’t spend that much time with them anymore.

Sometimes they take Antonio and Roderich with them when they know nobody will ask for their IDs, but most of the time Antonio keeps hanging out with the “little ones”, both because he likes taking care of his brother and the others, and because they are “more fun”. He takes them to the beach and to look for fungus in the forest. He organizes a race and whoever wins (Arthur does, but only because Rique lets him), gets to choose what they will order for dinner. He and Rodri spent a lot of time practicing playing music, singing and dancing. Arthur then sits nearby and stares dreamily and him, until it’s time to start glaring daggers at anyone who comes even remotely close to the object of his affections.

_God, he’s so perfect..._

“Arthur, are you alright?”

Arthur blinks, staring at Antonio’s worried face like a deer caught in the headlights. “You were looking a bit spacey there.”

“I- yeah, it’s nothing …”

“Nope!” Rique exclaims, appearing out of nowhere. “Toño, Artie’s got something to tell you.”

“What? No!!” Arthur squeaks, elbowing his friend as hard as he can. But the bastard wiggles away.

“Cm’on, be a man! And you, take Artie out of here, he has something very, very important to tell you. And don’t let him go until he says it.” He winks at his brother, who scrunches up his nose in confusion.

“O-kay?” Antonio laughs, a little awkwardly, beckoning Arthur closer. “Cm’on pipsqueak, what’s so crucial?”

Arthur follows Antonio out of the dining room, throwing a mix of accusing and pleading looks over his shoulder.

“I…” He starts once they are alone, staring at Antonio’s expectant face with what must be the most prominent blush in the history of mankind. “I....” Well, he came here determined to confess his feelings after all and he’s seen enough of Fiona’s (And Alistair’s too, even if he’ll never admit to it) favorite romantic comedies to know that if he never speaks up he’ll never know what they could have had, so… “I like you!”

There it is. However Antonio doesn’t even react, tilting his head inquisitively. “I like you too? Now what was it?”

“No, no!” Arthur hurries up to clarify. “I meant that I like _like_ you. I…” In for a penny, in for a pound “I was wondering if you… ah… if you wanted to go on a date with me.” His voice is so weak by the end of the sentence he’s half convinced that Antonio didn’t hear it. But the other boy looks shocked and keeps opening and closing his mouth like a fish.

“Arthur-” and oh-oh, that tone doesn’t sound good “You are aware that you are fourteen, right?”

Arthur pouts. “That has nothing to do with it.”

Antonio shakes his head “This has everything to do with it. You are the same age as my baby brother. I’m sure one day you’ll turn into a very fine man, but I just can’t see you that way. And if I did, that would be very wrong.”

“No it wouldn’t…” Arthur mumbles as his eyes start watering. It hurts. He hasn’t ever been so blatantly turned down before. And by someone he adores like the sun, no less. “I really, really…”

“I’m sorry, Arthur.”

There’s pity in his eyes, and Arthur can’t stand it anymore. He runs away and hides for the rest of the evening in his own house, in his room. The next day too. He cries and nurses his first heartbreak until it feels like there’s no tears left in him anymore. But there’s always more. Damn teenage hormones!

Fiona comes to see him and he expects mockery, like from his brothers and even his parents, but she hugs him and kisses his hair. She understands and keeps him company (even though she agrees with Toni), until he stops crying for the day and then she drags him downstairs and they see action movies without a drop of romance in them and eat an entire pint of ice-cream.

Henique comes by several times, asking for forgiveness. It’s partially his fault after all, if he hadn’t pushed Arthur to confess… But it’s alright. He meant well, so after a couple of weeks Arthur decides to forgive him and they start hanging out again. It hurts a little, because he apparently had forgotten till now how much Antonio and Rique look alike. They both are carbon copies in miniature of their father.

Arthur comes completely out of his shell by the end of summer. Antonio helps a lot by, basically, avoiding him like the fire. He and Roderich stop hanging out with their group and either keep to themselves or go with the adult half of the company. That leaves the kids to their own devices, running around town, the coast and the forests unsupervised while their parents roast themselves on the beach.

It results in a couple of scraps, a concussion and a lot of laughs that are heaven’s balm for Arthur’s young, mangled heart.

He still cries on the plane back, though, both because he already misses his friends and because of the apologetic way Antonio looked at him before squeezing his shoulder when they said goodbye.

That year he grows up and matures a lot. He falls a little away from his summer group and doesn’t talk that much with Rique anymore. In turn he makes new friends at school, joins a tennis club and earns a bit of pocket money for himself by teaching his neighbour’s kids Spanish every Saturday.

He discovers that he’s very good with written assignments at school, so he starts writing in his free time too. Little stories and poems that girls find even more romantic than his foreign language skills. He gets a girlfriend for three weeks, but then breaks up with her and gets a boyfriend for four whole months. Mathias is amazing, cool and funny, but they still split up by may. Arthur isn’t very affected to be honest. Part of him expects that maybe this year Antonio will change his mind.

But when he shows up at the Fernández household, it’s Ms. Acosta who greets him. “Ri is at the restaurant, helping his father.” She tells him.

“And Antonio?” He asks, hopefully?

“Oh, you don’t know? Didn’t Henrique tell you?”

“Tell me what?” He doesn’t tell her that he hasn’t talked to Rique since he started dating Mathias.

“The Beilschmidts moved out. They went back to Germany.”

“Oh.” Arthur says, a little disappointed. No Ludwig then, but what does that have to do with Toni?

“-and Roderich’s parents invited them and my boys to spend the holidays at their cottage in the alps, in exchange for all these summers here.” She continues “But Rique is way too young for that, it’s too much responsibility, especially for people we don’t know well. Toño is old enough and a smart boy though, so we let him go. He would have spent the whole summer moping anyway, without Rodri and Gilbert here. I’m sorry, you missed him by a couple of days, but you can go see if you can pray Ri out of the kitchen. He’s more of a nuisance than help anyway.”

“Yeah” Arthur mumbles, crestfallen. Well that’s a bummer. He goes in search of Rique, who is happy but not all that enthusiastic about seeing him. He misses his brother too, and Arthur understands that he would have loved to go to Austria. It’s even worse when Francis and his sister Lucille, who haven’t been coming for a couple of years now, convince Arthur’s parents to let Fiona go with them on a “pilgrimage” through the entire country. They must have been perpetually sun struck because they accept and the three of them leave to walk the route of Santiago.

 

So it’s only Henrique, Arthur and Mattie left. And of course, Rique’s school friends, that they end up hanging out with. Arthur likes them, even though they can be exceedingly loud at times. Mattie, on the other hand, barricades himself in his room with a book and doesn’t want to come out most of the time. So they start forgetting about him.

All in all, it’s a long, boring and sultry summer. At least it helps to refuel Arthur’s and Rique’s friendship. They make each other the promise to not fall apart the next year.

They kind of do though. Even if this time they at least make the effort to phone each other once a month.

There’s nothing to talk about though. Arthur wins a writing contest in his city and gets a new boyfriend. Rique’s football team loses all but one winter matches and he french-kisses two girls. When summer gets near though, Arthur receives the call he’s been secretly convinced was coming but dreaded anyway.

Antonio is not going to be home this summer. The surprise is that he’s not coming back in September either.

Apparently, last year he applied for a music scholarship at Vienna University and was granted it. He’s going to be sharing an apartment and half of his classes with Roderich. So he’s staying the summer to practice German and get used to the life at their new place.

The Bonnefoys aren’t coming either, and Fiona takes a different flight, directly to Santiago, where she’ll be staying with friends she made last year at the end of her pilgrimage.

Rique might have neglected to tell him as well that, since he’s sixteen, and therefore legally allowed to work, he’s going to be helping out his father in the family restaurant a couple of hours a day.

A couple of hours turn into four and then six hours a day, because Rique loves playing with food and can spend the entire day chopping celery and chatting with the cooks, even with the unbearable heat and stress of the kitchen. Arthur can’t even come close to the greasy ovens.

It’s the worst, most boring summer of his life, so he’s actually happy when his parents say they are not coming back. With all their kids scattered around Britain at universities and work, they prefer to tour the country visiting them all. Suits Arthur just fine, who starts his English Literature major at Oxford that year.

 

He hates his roommate, but loves being away from his parents and siblings. Uni buries him in work and he forgets all about Spain and the little town by the Mediterranean; about his former best friend; and his first love and heartbreak, until it all comes back to him in the shape of a poster at the student’s bar near June. A concert during the second week of summer break. Arthur doesn’t know the tall blond guy or the two beautiful girls, but he immediately recognizes Roderich at the keyboard and Antonio with an electric guitar and a microphone in each hand. He looks even more gorgeous than all these summers ago.

Arthur buys a ticket and the band is damn good, so he buys their CD too.

There’s a song about summers in a seaside town spent amongst friends. It’s happy and melancholic and so familiar that it makes Arthur emotional. He picks up the phone and tries to call Henrique, but nobody picks up.

And that’s the last he thinks about all of them in a very, very long time.

 

 

* * *

**ACT 3**

* * *

 

 

Paris is depressing.

It’s old, humid, full of homeless dogs and smells like layers upon layers of urine deposited through the centuries. If it wasn’t because it’s full of disgusting Frenchmen, it would feel like a kindred spirit to Arthur.

He stares absentmindedly at a boy running in front of his father with a raincoat and huge rubber boots. It hurts, so he looks back down at his ideas notebook. A blank page, too new and white against the grey light, glares back at him accusingly.

He has nothing. He came here looking for inspiration. Hoping to find the muse that packed up and left along with Yao and Leon almost two years ago. He hasn’t been able to write anything worthwhile since then. The savings from the success of his first two books are bound to wear off sooner or later, his friends are tired of his apathy and his editor is starting to get really angry.

Paris seemed like a good change of scenery, something different to ignite the flame he’s lost. And yet, here he is: a thirty year old, divorced writer, hiding in a café under the rain that has been bathing the most poetic city in the world on and off for two weeks. Even in April, the month of the full bloom, he feels bare like honeysuckle branches in winter.

Arthur closes his eyes, because looking at the stale grey sky hurts his pupils, and looking at the children playing in the puddles does too.

He doesn’t know how much time he spends like that until a voice brings him out of his half-slumber.

“Arthur? Arthur Kirkland?”

He turns around to find himself face to face with a familiar face. It’s a very attractive man, probably in his thirties, with wavy blond hair and a bright yellow umbrella. Arthur could have sworn to know him well, but for the love of God he just can’t place him.

“Am… yes?”

The newcomer chuckles “You don’t even remember me? That’s cold Artie, after all the wonderful times we shared as kids. What a disappointment.” He laments dramatically and then something clicks in Arthur’s brain.

“Bonnefoy! You are Francis Bonnefoy!”

“Bingo! Little sparrow! So you do remember big brother Francis after all?” Bonnefoy goes to hug him and Arthur allows it, even hugs back awkwardly. Because he might have disliked Francis back then, but a chance meeting of that caliber warrants some emotion.

Apparently, Francis has nothing better to do, because he appropriates the other chair behind Arthur’s table and starts chatting animatedly, shooting questions and answers like a tommy gun. He asks for a bottle of wine to celebrate their encounter and the alcohol loosens Arthur’s tongue enough to tell Francis his sappy story.

“That’s really sad, mon ami.” Francis sighs. “You know though, as much as I love Paris, it’s my home and my city after all, it might not be what you need.”

“Well, I tried everything already.” Arthur says, looking at his own folded hands.

“I’m sure that’s not even remotely true.” Francis chuckles. “Actually, I might know exactly what you need. So do you remember how I said that I work for an international travel magazine?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, so the other day I reviewed personally a lovely family restaurant attached to a tiny, comfortable hotel. Seaside, calm, elegant and light. Very sunny, exactly what you need.”

“I doubt lazing on the beach will help me.”

Francis grins enigmatically, talking out a pen, his phone, and scribbling on a napkin. “I’m going to give you the owner’s number anyway. Just give him a call, okay?”

Arthur narrows his eyes “Are you trying to set me up?”

Francis outright guffaws, immediately hiding his mouth behind his hand. “With that one? I think it would be fruitless. And not only because he’s as straight as an arrow.” He leans forward, suddenly more serious “Promise me you’ll at least make that call. Do it for me?”

“Fine!” Arthur spats, snatching up the napkin and stuffing it into his pocket.

He proceeds with forgetting all about it until he’s already back in London and loading up the laundry basket with his dirty clothes after breakfast.

He unfolds the napkin staring suspiciously at the number. +34? Well, could be a coincidence, right? He decides to hell with it and dials anyway.

And downright curses Francis when a well-known voice from times long past picks up the phone. “Fernández Acosta speaking.”

“Hey, Ri.” Arthur entones awkwardly. “Miss me?”

 

And that’s how he ends up standing in the middle of an airport he hadn’t set a foot on in fifteen years, amazed by the emotions the familiar sounds and smells of southern Spain bring back to the surface.

Life treated Henrique well. His early-found passion for cooking accompanied him into the culinary school and then through the best restaurants until he had enough money to come back and completely renovate the family restaurant by the coast, turning it into a trendy establishment. Offering a traditionally-inspired menu topped with a contemporary presentation. Exactly what the tourists want.

The city grew too. Two entire new districts, reforms in the old town. The old bakery near the bowling alley had been turned into a phone store, and the bowling alley into a movie theater. They built a new walk by the beach and cleaned up the docks.

And yet, somehow, the town still managed to keep that unique and homey feel to it.

“I’m really glad that you’ve come back.” Rique tells him with a pleased smile. “You look like you need a bit of vitamin D and a friend.”

“I know where to get vitamin D, what I don’t see anywhere is the friend.”

Henrique laughs out loud and just like that, it’s like the time hasn’t passed for them.

“Come by the restaurant tonight.” He says later “Tell your name to the guy at the reception, I’ll make sure you are reserved a good table”

“You really don’t have to.”

“No,” Rique silences him with his hand “I insist. Besides, you might get a surprise or two”

 

Arthur comes into the restaurant earlier than intended perhaps, not used to the late dining hours preferred in this country. The dining service is barely getting started and it’s mostly just for tourists.

By the time he is waiting for his dessert, however, the ample space is already bursting with local customers too. They all look like they are expecting something and then start clapping enthusiastically, so Arthur turns around in his chair, just noticing the theatre curtains behind him parting and revealing a small stage with various musical instruments, and a man, sitting on a taburet with a guitar on his lap.

Arthur recognizes him immediately and even after all these years his heart skips a beat.

Antonio looks older, of course, maybe a little bit more worn out than he should be at 33. There’s a delicate net of cobwebs at the corners of his eyes, smile lines that make him look like he’s listening to a very amusing story all the time, his hair is still wavy and soft-looking but there are brushes of silver on his temples and the tattoo on his neck is faded enough to have been there for at least a decade.

But he’s still probably every teenage girl’s wildest wet dream.

Everyone cheers when he gets up and bows theatrically to the audience. A group of blond tourists, two of them spotting “Lost Dynasty” band T-shirts, are specially vocal. Antonio waves and shouts out something in German at them that make the men laugh and the women squeal even louder.

He sits back on his chair, fixes the guitar position, the microphone, and starts playing. His voice is rougher too, but when he starts singing Arthur feels a shiver run down his spine.

Antonio sings several songs in Spanish, English and one in German. Then he makes a pause to drink water and when he leaves the bottle on the floor he smiles and looks directly at Arthur.

“And this is the last song for today.” Antonio begins, not taking his eyes off Arthur “So I want to dedicate it to an old friend that I haven’t seen in a lifetime. Welcome back, pipsqueak.”

Arthur pouts at the nickname and Antonio laughs. But when his fingers play the first notes, Arthur remembers the song. That same one about their childhood from his band’s first album. He listens to it, mouthing along the words and Antonio keeps smiling at him from the stage.

There’s a warm feeling growing in Arthur’s chest. When the song ends and the curtain closes, he looks down at his untouched desert, and is pretty sure that, too old for that bullshit or not, he must be blushing. Maybe it’s true what they say; that one never forgets their first love. Because right now, Arthur feels like an awkward early teen again: revolted hormones, uncoordinated limbs and head over heels for his best friend’s brother.

He waits up on the cute wooden bench near the restaurant, watching a couple kids chase a football ball under the streetlights, until a hand touches his shoulder. He looks up to see a smiling Antonio, who takes the liberty to sit beside him, directing his gaze at the boys too.

“Brings back memories, huh?”

“Hm.” Arthur agrees. “Except that we played with anything we could find. Including yarn balls.”

Antonio lets out a soft, affable laugh “Yeah. That time had been a disaster, but we ended up attracting kitties.”

“Yeah.”

They sit in silence, listening to the sounds of people coming from the restaurant.

“So what brought you back?” Antonio asks finally.

“Found Francis in Paris. He gave me Rique’s cell number.” Arthur answers. No need to pour his disgraces on Antonio’s shoulders right away.

“Francis?” He livens up “Oh Wow! I haven’t heard of him in years! How is he? His sister?”

“He is fine. Still as infuriating as ever. And Lucille apparently is too. Works as a waitress in a Monte Carlo casino now.”

“Woah! Somehow that suits her.”

“What about the others?” Arthur turns a little towards him. “You kept in touch with Roderich and the Beilschmidts, right?”

“Yeah. Rodri and I were in a band together until a few months back. He got married last year.”

“You are kidding me!” Arthur’s eyebrows jump up.

“I swear.” Antonio laughs “I was his Best Man.”

Arthur chuckles. “And there I could have sworn there was something between you two.”

“Nah.” Antonio waves his hand dismissively. “We tried for like two months in our first uni year but somehow it felt stupid. Like we were twelve year olds playing dates again. Being just best friends suits us better.”

Interesting. “What about Gilbert and Lud?”

“Ludwig joined the Military. Gil…” He frowns. “Comes and goes from job to job. Never sticks to anything for too long. Disappears sometimes on his own family for months. What about Your sister?”

“Nurse in London. Has a boyfriend. Nothing out of the ordinary.” He doesn’t mention the terrible discussion, a few years ago, that made them fall out of touch almost completely.

“Huuh.”

They fall into silence. Arthur has the feeling that they have a ton of things to talk about yet, but not really an idea on what exactly to say in this very moment. Antonio is not helping, looking pensively into the void. There’s a weight on his shoulders, Arthur realizes.

“Are you okay?” Arthur asks, placing a hand on his forearm.

“Yeah” Antonio smiles back at him. “Just tired.”

Arthur lets it slide for now. “What about you? Why did you come back? Vacations?”

Antonio looks him straight in the eyes, as if debating between talking further or diverting the conversation. At the end he sighs, looking forward again and then standing up.

“Do you have time to take a walk with me? I should be somewhere in a bit anyway.”

Arthur nods, walking a step behind him in a comfortable silence until they reach a cute house uphill. It has been painted over and the roof had been changed, but even in the darkness, Arthur is sure he could walk through it with his eyes closed.

It’s Antonio's childhood home. 

He knocks on the door and they wait until the family matriarch opens the door. Ms. Acosta looks almost identical to the last time Arthur saw her, as if time hasn’t really passed for the enthusiastic woman.

“About time” She whispers to her son, hitting him softly on the chest. “he fell asleep already, maybe better if you leave him here instead of waking him up.” Then her eyes slide to Arthur and her mouth falls open. “Is that…?” She asks, looking from the grinning Antonio back to Arthur and then back. Toni nods and Arthur suddenly finds himself being wrapped into a strong hug and ushered into the house.

She makes him a cup of chocolate with cookies, despite it being full on summer, and asks him a thousand questions that he does his best to divert. Antonio laughs at some point, amused by their interaction, until a feeble voice cuts him out.

“You are too loud…”

They all turn around and Arthur sees a little boy, aged five at most, rubbing at his eyes by the bottom of the staircase. He has deep brown curls, elephant pajamas, and a pout on his face.

“So sorry, honey.” Antonio apologises, going to pick up the kid, that clings to his collar but turns his face away when Antonio tries to kiss his cheek. He gets those kisses anyway and grumbles under his breath. “But now that you are awake, do you want to stay with grandma or go back home?”

“Sleep.” He whines.

“Are you going to be able to wake up earlier tomorrow?”

The toddler nods and Antonio chuckles, kissing the top of his head again.

“Yeah, somehow I don’t believe that, little buddy.”

The kid whines again and wriggles in his hold, he notices Arthur then, who’s watching the scene in shocked silence.

“Who’s that? His eyebrows are ugly.”

“That’s papa’s friend Arthur. Arthur, say hi to Lovi.”

Arthur wiggles his fingers weakly but the child loses all interest in him, yawns, and buries his face in his father’s shirt.

“Be back soon.” Antonio mouths at Arthur and starts ascending the stairs with care. Arthur turns to Ms. Acosta, who just shrugs, looking amused.

“Don’t hold it against him. He’s too little and also went through a lot.”

“It’s okay but… he isn’t Antonio’s kid?”

Ms. Acosta looks up, towards the top of the stairs, with a sad, little smile. “He is now. But it’s not my story to tell.”

When Antonio comes back five minutes later he dives into the fridge first, taking out three beers, but his mother shakes her head, taking one and putting it back. She gives Antonio a kiss on the cheek and tilts her face so he can return it, then says goodbye to Arthur and ascends the stairs too.

Arthur follows his childhood friend outside, to the porch, accepting the beer and lowering himself next to Antonio on a garden bench.

They remain in silence for a while, looking at the cloudless sky. The city might have grown and became way brighter, but Arthur can still see some stars shining in the dark.

“Do you remember when you taught us which was the great bear constellation and the polar star?”

Antonio snorts. “Still the only two celestial things that I know. I’m sorry if you grew up thinking I was some kind of astronomy expert.”

“Neeh” Arthur waves his bottle “I always knew you were a big loser.”

Antonio guffaws, covering his mouth with his hand, but continues snickering. “Really? That’s not what I remember, pipsqueak.”

Arthur turns bright red in a matter of seconds. “Shut up. I was a dumb kid, okay?”

“Yeah” Antonio agrees, looking down at his beer. “We all were. This has always been, and probably still is, the best place to be a kid.”

“So that’s why you came back?”

The answering silence is confirmation enough.

“May I ask what happened? It’s just that your mom dropped a comment earlier and…”

Antonio shrugs. “No, it’s okay.” He leans back on the bench, staring at some random point in the night sky.

“You know how they say stage life is hard and… well, that people get into things, drugs and hard alcohol and all of that crap?”

Arthur frowns, but doesn’t say a thing.

“Well, that’s partially true. At the beginning it’s fun, but with time it starts wearing down on you. Don’t get me wrong, I love music, it’s my life. However, the concerts, the constant rehearsals, the… jesus, the public relations are-” Antonio pinches the bridge of his nose. “The rhythm is just frantic, and constant. At the end, the most peaceful moment is when you are performing, on stage, but sometimes you are just so tired… and well, the managers often encourage their charges to take stuff, even provide the coke themselves. And if they don’t do it, someone else does, at the parties, the studios, other artists, there is always someone. It was a vocalist from another group, other lead-ins for a Sabaton concert in the third year of our career. We were all nervous and he offered us stuff. Margot was the only one that managed to refuse. And that kind of shit… it sucks you in. Luckily for us, our manager, Marcus, wasn’t like those other greedy assholes. We didn’t actually expect him to get angry when he found out. But boy… he got furious. He often acted like a mix between a grumpy grandpa and a father towards us.”

Antonio’s lips stretch for a melancholic smile “He honestly cared about our stupid young asses, more than he did about the money. He cancelled all concerts and pushed back the new album release, all the social acts, sent Margot out as the only representative for a very important convention… He made us go to rehab, supervised us. I needed help the most I think. Rodri had been given the clear out the first, but he remained in the clinic just to be my support. Marcus visited us three times a week, and then, once out, just was constantly on our asses, watching like a hawk. He established a slower work rhythm. Something we could be comfortable with, even if it meant losing money and opportunities. Got us all used to exercising regularly so we had better resistance and even cooked or dragged us out for homemade meals at least twice a week. He did so much for us…”

Arthur has been nodding along, rooted in place, suddenly feeling the need to place one hand on Toni’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly. Antonio leans in, shooting him a grateful look before continuing with his story.

“He treated us like family and we knew his own family pretty well. But almost a year ago… his daughter went into labour while Marcus and his son-in-law were at the market. They weren’t careful enough, wanted to get to the hospital as soon as possible and…” Antonio winced. “Well, I guess that’s what the circulation laws are for, right? To prevent accidents like these, where people lose control of their cars and end up almost unrecognizable. We still don’t know how his daughter found out about the accident but she did and I guess the stress and the grief piled up on top of the complications… and at the end the baby and Lovi were the only family members to survive the day. They didn’t have anyone else, you know? Well, besides their aunt on father’s side. But she couldn’t afford to raise them. She didn’t have the money and resourses, and didn’t want to have two children dumped on her head all of a sudden anyway.  Marcus trusted us, he _saved_ us. There was no way we could continue without him. And... Jan was thinking about leaving the band anyway. His sister would have followed him anywhere. Rodri and Eliza had gotten married and wanted to have time for themselves, to build a family. And I- I guess I was feeling homesick.”

Antonio exhales soundly, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling of the porch. Arthur remembers that Antonio and Henrique’s old room was just above it. “Lovi is difficult. He spent four months without talking after the accident. Then talked only to me on the good days. I guess because he knew me since he was born and I kinda look like the young photos of his grandpa. He refused to go to the doctor and visit the psychologist if I wasn’t there. He’s a smart kid and understands more that he should at that age. But somehow got it into his head that it’s his little brother’s fault that his family isn’t here anymore. We thought it better to separate them for now. Besides, a baby in the house is exactly what Roderich and Eliza wanted, so…”

“So you suddenly became a dad too.”

Antonio smiles wishfully. “I try to. I hope someday Lovi will see me like that. For now I’m content that he tolerates me when I try to get him to call me papa. He’s sweet when he wants to, and he’s getting used to this town and his new family. I never thought I would come to adore the little demon that much but he’s the axis of my life now. Everything else just became secondary.”

Arthur looks away, his eyes watering up. He misses Leon so much in moments like these. But he doesn’t even know how to contact him, or if Yao would allow them to speak on the phone. It hurts, suddenly it hurts like hell again and he doesn’t even realise when his breathing speed up, breaking in the middle.

He feels hands around his shoulders and buries his face in Antonio’s chest, taking comfort in the presence of another living being nearby.

“I guess this is the moment when you decide whether to tell me your story or not.” Antonio says after a while.

Arthur takes a deep breath. The therapist had said that it would do him good to express his feelings more often, that hearing himself talking about it would help him to accept it sooner. Besides, Antonio just told him about his own teary-eyed dramas. It’s Arthur’s turn.

So he does. And he hates to see the pity in Antonio’s eyes, but he knows it’s unavoidable. It’s a pitiful story after all.

“Why did he leave?” Antonio asks, and immediately bites on his lip. You just don’t ask that kind of thing. But Arthur shakes his head to show it’s alright.

“I guess we just didn’t click right. I… I can’t say that after a while I truly loved him, I’m not really sure if I ever did actually. He used to accuse me of being too guarded and distant, of being too cold. He said that I made him feel like I was settling for him because I couldn’t get anything better. I guess… I guess he deserved better than this. I just wish that the better thing didn’t mean going back to China and taking Leon with him.”

“And you can’t reclaim the kid?”

“He’s Yao’s from his first marriage. I have no right over him, even if I did raise him since the age of three.”

“How long have you been married for?”

“Legally? Three years and a half. Actually – a little over two years if you don’t count the eight months of dating before the wedding. I don’t know if I really miss him, I don’t miss the fights or the constant nagging, but I do miss the times when we got along and I wish I could have kept the family moments with Leon.”

“You really got attached to him, huh?”

“Somehow, yeah. I know it’s stupid, he’s not even my kid, but-“

“Hey, none of that.” Antonio interrupts gently “I’m an adoptive parent too, remember? Moreover; the woman in that house?” He points back at the front door with his thumb “she didn’t give birth to me, but she loves me no less than her own son. Blood alone doesn’t make family. You are allowed to lament the leave of your child, whether the law supports you or not.”

“…thank you.” Arthur manages to squeeze out. If they continued down that road, he would start crying again. They need a change of subject.

“So, are you just playing in Rique ’s restaurant or…?”

Antonio recognizes the diversion but says nothing, leaning back on his chair.

“Well, it’s summer, so yeah. Rique pays me better than he probably should. He says I attract tons of clients. I’m under the impression that I only attract locals and groupies, and he’s just elated to have me back and wants to keep me at all cost from going back to Vienna, which was my second option.”

“You miss Roderich?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe! We’ve been friends since we were like eight and inseparable since uni started. But to be honest, it’s more likely for him to move here than for me to go back there. I’m playing in the restaurant for now, a couple of hours every evening, but as soon as the school year begins I’m starting as a music teacher for secondary. Across from Lovi’s pre-school. That way I’ll be able to get there soon if he heeds me.

“Does Rique know it?”

“Not yet. Only mom knows. I’ll tell him and dad in a few weeks.” He turns towards Arthur, grinning “Don’t sell me out, please? I’m rather enjoying being fawned over.”

Arthur chuckles, a little bit less depressed. “Fine... But you’ll owe me one.”

“Hmm? I could get you an ice-cream.”

Arthur’s ‘are you kidding me’ face must be hilarious because Antonio laughs, loud and clear as spring water.

“What? Do you remember Doña Francisca from down the street that used to sell that incredible homemade ice-cream? Well, sadly, she passed away, but her daughter owns now a pretty successful ice-cream parlour down at the sea walk. It’s not made with the same love and dedication but she’s using her mother’s recipes for the simplest flavours. They are still the best.”

“Does she make the strawberry sorbet?”

“Yeah. Lovi’s favourite is dark chocolate with orange peel. Pretty fancy for a kid, I kinda expected him to like the blue or tutti-frutti one, but he’s growing up to be a gourmet. We may yet have another chef in the family.” His voice, full of mirth, is captivating, as well as those deep crinkles at the corners of his eyes that make his smile look even more genuine.

Arthur might have gotten a little bit lost in both because when Antonio says “We were going to hit the beach in the morning, do you want to come?” He doesn’t actually think it twice before agreeing.

A couple of hours later, however, he is laying in bed, staring at the ceiling and regretting giving his word. He can’t… he just prefers not to spend any time with kids these days. It’s difficult enough as it is, to see the families from afar, he doesn’t want to have to witness it from up close. But in a moment of irrationality from them both, he hadn’t gotten Antonio’s number, and it would be rude just to stand him up anyway.

So that’s how he ended up sitting in the foyer of the hotel in the morning, being mothered over by Rique, who insisted on personally covering his shoulders and face in suncream. Because according to his own words _“damn fish’n’chips eaters hadn’t learned yet how to properly protect themselves from lobstering._ ”

And that’s exactly how Antonio finds them: Arthur slumped in defeat in his seat and Henrique kneading his face like a ball of dough, with his hands full of white goo, as the passing tourists amusedly giggle in their direction.

 _“Save me”_ he mouths at the elder brother and immediately regrets it as cream gets into his mouth and he has to spit it out into a napkin.

“See Lovi? This is what happens when you don’t behave and put your sunscreen on yourself.” Antonio tells - all chipper, the traitor - the boy that’s clinging to his shorts with one hand and in the other carries a floater almost as big as himself.

The kid scoffs, almost like a little, grumpy adult. “I put it on myself because you tickle me when you do it.” He declares, letting go of Antonio to approach Rique and present his cheeks for a couple of smooches and a pinch that he endures like a champion, rubbing the area afterwards with a tiny pout.

“So are you ready to go?” Antonio asks.

 _Last chance to back_ _down_ Arthur thinks, but Antonio’s friendly smile makes him forget about how to make sounds with his mouth, so he just nods his agreement several times. Damn, that man is dangerous.

The rest of the day is spent in a chaotic flurry. From the hotel they go directly to get ice-cream because, according to Antonio, he’d rather feed the kid sugar now, so he’ll have the entire day to burn it. Rather than later, when Antonio himself will be too exhausted to chase after him.

They take it to go from that place Antonio talked about yesterday. Arthur insists on the orange sorbet and vanilla, while Antonio opts for raisin rum and coconut. Lovi orders dark chocolate with orange peel and does his best to look all mature and serious with his face, hands and - for some reason - his bellybutton, full of melted, sticky chocolate goo. Antonio shares an amused look with arthur. Like _“See? another reason to give him ice-cream before dumping him into the sea.”_

The walk to the beach is a relatively short one, but they have to stop once for Antonio to sign an autograph on a woman’s shirt, who tries to chat him up. However, Lovi begins complaining so they manage to escape. But once she’s out of sight Antonio bents down and presents his fist for the boy to bump. He “did his job well” and Antonio tells Arthur that this happens from time to time. Their band wasn’t overly popular, but it was well known in its niche. They had over ten years of tranquil but steady trajectory and good looking members, so anyone with a Rhapsody or Evanescence t-shirt probably has one of theirs in their closet too. He sounds damn proud of his life and career, Arthur realises. Even if it had been a hard one, this is a man ready to start a new chapter in his life without anything to regret from the previous one.

And that’s how Arthur catches himself becoming mesmerised by Antonio again.

Mesmerised by his resolution, his positivity, and the overall arc of his character. He can’t help it, even if he hasn’t written anything in months, Arthur is still a writer, he feels genuine attraction to good stories.

Well, good stories and nicely tan male bodies. Arthur relises that he wasn’t prepared for the moment Antonio takes his shirt off. _Oh, oh boy!_

For his own sanity he tries to stare anywhere but at his friend’s back and shapely ass, just stretching and bending to rummage through their bags. It’s a tytanic task though. If Arthur were better dressed and less covered in sunscreen he would have even sworn that Antonio was flaunting himself a little bit.

The beach looks at the same time different and identical to how he remembered it. More full of people, people everywhere, noisier, but also cleaner somehow.

“Yeah, they’re putting a lot of effort into this now.” Antonio tells him after they find a place and pluck in the umbrella. Lovino is released to go play with a promise to not go too far and the two adults settle on the towels, Antonio watching the kid like a hawk, even though he pretends not to.

Arthur keeps inspecting their surroundings.

“Do you remember the Clean Planet Operation?”

Antonio laughs. It makes the lynx inked into his abdomen tense up in a mesmerising way, like a predator getting ready to jump on its prey, and Arthur has to swallow hard, thankful that any blush on his face can be easily attributed to the sun.

“Yeah. We made matching shirts and all, went around collecting rubbish and picking on people that threw their shit on the ground. Until Mattie got hurt and it all escalated.”

“It wasn’t our fault. It happened because of a tin can that somebody threw away. Kinda illustrated our point.”

“Yeah, but it was us who got yelled at.” Arthir scoffs.

“Heh, the world is unfair. We were out of the hook and minding our business in a few hours though.”

Arthur shakes his head. “Yeah, I think I saw my parents a great deal of twice a day back then; once in the morning and once at night. We were really independent, but those were other times too.”

Antonio nods, squinting into the distance. “Probably. I try not to be too overbearing. Don’t wanna be one of those helicopter parents that practically burrito their kids in bubble wrap and don’t let them out of their sight. But it’s hard... I don’t think I could be as carefree as our parents were, but I really try to give Lovi his space, you know?”

“Yeah.” Arthur agrees, pensively.

“Are you okay?” Antonio turns towards him, concern evident on his face. “Sorry, I didn’t say anything inappropriate, did I? Sometimes I just say stuff and don’t realise - “

“No, no no.” Arthur is quick to correct him. “It’s just, children in general. I should be getting over it-”

“Sorry. I didn’t think.” Antonio mumbles, looking mildly subdued. But before they can get into an awkward spiral of apologies, Lovi comes running towards them, practically sprawling himself over Antonio.

“Are you comiiing in?” He starts whining, wriggling out of his floater. Antonio chuckles and gets up to follow him into the water. Turning towards Arthur he asks que question with his eyes, and yeah, why not? A dip for the old days.

So Arthur ends up in the water too, playing catch with Lovi, who’s making great progress learning how to swim. Although he’s only allowed to get into the water without floaters with adult supervision for now. There’s an incident once as he bumps into another boy and swallows water. But after coughing it out - clinging to Antonio’s waist for dear life, like a baby koala, for about five minutes - he’s fine again and ready to give them a run for their money.

In the next few hours Arthur gets kicked in the head, splashed with water in the eyes, buried in sand, fed the aforementioned sand with a plastic spoon, and is otherwise physically abused by a five year old high on sugar and some other kids that appear out of nowhere. He has to play as a dragon for an improvised staging with a crooked sandcastle, and a woman yells at him for no reason in a language he doesn’t recognize.

But in return he gets to apply suncream to Antonio’s back, which is a special form of torture on its own. At least when the mom of one of Lovi’s new friends starts producing out of a portable fridge tupperware upon tupperware, upon tupperware, upon even more tupperware, he has the pleasure to wash down the salt and sand in his mouth with an oily breaded filet and dry lentil stew.

All in all, by the time the sun raises too high for staying in the open and Antonio - as a well versed local - commands his troops back to the hotel, Arthur is already badly sunburnt, exhausted, sunstruck and suffering of heartburn. His eyes feel sore and every muscle in his body is screaming in pain.

He can’t remember having a better day in his entire life!

Antonio walks him to his suite’s door, having managed to disentangle the sleepy kid from Arthur’s leg and left him to doze off in the lobby, well supervised by his uncle. “Thank you for today” he whispers, eyes and voice full of warmth and gentleness.

“I should be the one thanking you two.” Arthur shakes his head. “It was really fun.”

“Even despite Lovi’s excess of energy?”

“That was the best part. I think he likes me now.”

“That he does.” Antonio’s crowsfeet crinkle with myrith. “It means that you are special.”

“I’m gonna take that as a compliment.” Arthur smiles back. His face hurts but he can’t help doing it. He’s just way too dehydrated and high on joy.”

“Give me your phone.” Antonio asks suddenly. “I think I forgot to give you my number yesterday.”

Arthur fishes it out and hands it over, leaning on the doorframe meanwhile. However, when he gets it back, alongside a gentle goodbye pat on the shoulder, there was a nice, new entry labeled “Toño <3” in it. Arthur straightens up, staring in confusion at that extra “less than three” until Antonio calls his name, already inside the elevator cabin.

“I was right, you know?”

“What?”

“Sixteen years ago, when I said you’d turn one day into a very fine man. I was definitely right.”

The elevator doors close with a gentle cling and if he weren’t so sunstruck Arthur probably wouldn’t have spent the next five minutes stiff as a greek pillar in the middle of the corridor, wondering what part of lobsterish-red face and disheveled straw hair translates into “fine.”

However, once the exhaustion wins over and he finally makes it through the threshold, showers and collapsed into bed, he sleeps like the dead for hours. Until around eight an intense craving wakes him up. It’s almost like a physical itching under his skin that bleeds into his brain and filles it with shapes, colors and impressions. Abstract ideas and a hundred branches of a metaphorical tree that grow and take roots across the layers of his mind. He needs to pour it all out, ride the wave of that high through the oceans of paper and ink stains that bears a vague resemblance to the myriad of tattoos scattered over Antonio’s back and chest.

Arthur misses dinner that night, and when Henrique comes by his room the next morning he finds the desk and walls covered in post-its, torn notes and crumpled paper balls. Arthur is crunched over his laptop, eyes red and tired but typing frantically, as if his aching fingertips were making up for all the lost time.

The future is waiting to be written down in patience and mistakes. His protagonist resembles too much a man he knows from a long time ago but still has to discover, to unveil. It won’t be easy. He will rewrite entire pages and almost give up several times. An emotional chrisis with make him run away and only return when the longing makes it clear that he’s already been marked. Like that scene that he always leaves for later because he never knows where to start and how to guide his fingers, his steps. He will write by night and sleep by day, taking advantage of naptime in the days it’s his turn to babysit. He will make dozens of calls across miles and miles of repeaters until he finally gives up and cries it out in the arms of that gentle woman that used to feed him homemade cake when he was a child. He will make a character after her but won’t realise it until his editor points out how authentic she feels.

He will write his new book, and he will write his new life. All wowen in one story, on the shores of that little town scatterted across time and bathed by the waves of the Spanish Mediterranean.

 

* * *

 

 _Quizás porque mi niñez_  
_Sigue jugando en tu playa_  
_Y escondido tras las cañas_ _  
_ Duerme mi primer amor.

  
_Llevo tu luz y tu olor_  
_Por dondequiera que vaya_  
_Y amontonado en tu arena_ _  
_ Guardo amor, juegos y penas.

 

 

**_**_\- Juan Manuel Serrát, Mediterráneo_ ** _ **

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not happy with this ending. I had planned another arc but at the end decided to end it here. Just hint and leave to your imagination whatever happens next ;) 
> 
> As you can see, I referenced Verano Azúl quite a lot (including the "Operation Clean Planet" from chapter 2). Antonio was cast in the role of Pancho, the poor guy xDDD 
> 
> Anyway, if you like my writing, you can always look me up on tumblr. My url is salytierra.


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